Читать книгу Barbara on Her Own - Edgar Wallace - Страница 4

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BARBARA came through the door leading to the cells, clutching a white paper in her hand, and with the last words of Mr Maber ringing through her mind.

"Give him ten pounds—I haven't any money."

Dimly she realised that the "him" referred to was the little lawyer by her side. He was a thin and tiny man; his clothes were shabby and rusty; his collar had been left over from last week's wash; and obviously he had not met a razor, except socially, for days and days. Hollow-eyed, hollow-cheeked, he smiled up at her.

"You won't want me to send you a bill, Miss Storr?" he said, and murmured something about "keeping his books clear." "Jolly old boy!" he said enthusiastically as she groped in her bag. "You can't be old if your heart's young. Married, miss?"

"I? Certainly not!"

"Not you, miss—old cherry-face—what a lad!"

"Mr Maber is a bachelor, so far as I know," said Barbara, more intent upon finding the money than Mr Maber's blessed state.

She had more than sufficient money in her bag. She was paid well, and it was the beginning of the week.

"Ten pounds?"

"Guineas," said Mr Hammett rather sadly.

He took the money and slipped it into his trousers pocket with a sidelong glance at the door.

"Any little service I can render you, Miss Storr, will you be kind enough to communicate with me?"

He handed her a dingy card, and glancing at it she saw, to her surprise, that the address was Lambeth. The phone number had been scratched out.

"Temporarily out of order," he said airily, following her eyes. "These telephones are always going wrong."

Barbara, who knew that telephones went wrong easiest when the quarterly fees were not promptly settled, gave him a smile and a handshake. With a flourish of his silk hat he made for the street. A young man who had been evidently waiting for him stepped up as he came abreast.

"Excuse me, Mr Hammett," he said. "You are Mr Hammett?"

"That is my name, boy," said Hammett, a little haughtily.

"Sorry," said the youth, and passed him a folded blue paper.

Mr Hammett raised his eyebrows, glanced at the superscription and thrust the offending document into his pocket.

"You can tell your principal that this matter will be settled today," he said with great severity.

The inspector was standing at the door of his room, a beaming spectator of the comedy.

"Come inside, miss," he said. "I'm sorry your governor got Hammett, but I suppose he did all he wanted."

"Who is he?" asked Barbara, who was now in a new world.

"He's a solicitor, I suppose," said the inspector. "At any rate, he's never been struck off the rolls. One of the old snide lawyers that tout the South London police court. We always get him up here after Boat Race night, and as a rule he's picked up a client or two. I'm sorry about Mr Maber," he went on in a more serious tone. "I know him well. He's been very good to my old mother, who lives in Ilchester. You come from there, miss, don't you? I've seen you there time and time again."

"Yes," said the girl in surprise, and then: "Did he really bite anybody?"

"Mr Maber? I don't know; they say he did," said the inspector. "But, Lord bless your life! What's a bite? May have been done playfully."

The tall, cadaverous constable who had come for her was standing in the inspector's room. He was evidently employed on messenger duty.

"I wonder you don't have a couple of policemen down at your place, miss," said the inspector. "Attermans have got them. They've three or four."

"Can you employ policemen?" she asked, open-eyed.

The inspector laughed.

"Why, yes, miss, with permission from the Commissioner. You have to pay for them, of course, but a big store can generally have as many as they want at sale time."

To think, with Barbara, was to act.

"I'll buy one," she said. "How much do they cost?"

"You can't buy one outright, miss," said the staggered inspector. "You can hire them. I'll put through an enquiry if you wish. Have you any particular man you'd like?"

She pointed to the tall, cadaverous constable.

"I'll have that one."

The inspector scratched his chin.

"I dare say it can be arranged, miss. Outside or inside duty?"

"Inside," said Barbara promptly.

It was an idea.

She called a taxicab and drove to Mr Maber's bank, interviewed a dumbfounded manager, produced a specimen of her signature, and was entering her cab again when a voice hailed her. She turned round to meet a fair girl with large, expressive eyes and lips which were even redder than the rose.

"Fancy meeting you, Miss Storr!" Maudie Deane grasped her hand warmly. "I've just been up to try to see Atterman. You'd think that, being a gentleman, and having, so to speak, spoilt all my chances—"

"Come into the cab. I'm in a hurry."

The solo cornetist in the Lusiana Ladies' Orchestra followed her into the taxi.

"Now, Maudie," said Barbara, "tell me about it all over again. I have a special reason for wishing to know everything that I can know about Atterman. He did fall in love with you—he did promise to marry you?"

Maudie nodded, her blue eyes filled with tears.

"I started the band for Atterman," she said. "It was my idea. I've played the cornet since I was six. My dear dad was the greatest soloist that this world has ever known—or any other world," she added. "And naturally Mr Atterman took to me. I'm a lady, whatever else I am. He used to come down every lunch-time and stand just where he could see me, his eyes, so to speak, devouring me, if I may use a romantic expression. It got so on my mind that I used to play flat. I think he wanted to marry me, but his mother—"

Barbara gasped.

"His mother? Has a man like that got a mother?"

"He's got two," was the astounding reply—"a stepmother and a real mother. His papa was divorced in sad circumstances. It appears—"

"I don't want to know anything about the sad circumstances," said Barbara hastily. "Go on with your love lyric."

The girl cast a pained look at her companion.

"It started with his seeing me home and holding hands...you know. He's an honourable man; I will say that for him. But both the mothers took a violent dislike to me."

"Both of them? Did you meet them both?"

Maudie nodded.

"Only one of them talks English, but I could tell by the other one's looks —Mr Atterman was originally a Russian gentleman. They took a violent dislike to me. I'd never have brought him into court, only my papa said that my honour should be vindicated, and that I was certain to get a good music-hall engagement with all the publicity—which I haven't. Miss Storr," she gulped, "I love that man!"

Barbara could only look at her in wonder.

"I suppose you'll see a lot of him now?" sobbed Maudie, dabbing her eyes. "You lucky girl!"

"Seeing Mr Atterman is not exactly my idea of a windfall," said Barbara carefully; "but why should I be seeing a lot of him?"

Maudie dried her eyes with a tiny handkerchief in which was harboured a small, round, woolly object that imparted an immediate pallor to her red nose.

"They're buying your business. I met Mr Minkey on the street and he told me. He's certainly a live wire, that man—and musical! I taught him his notes; he plays the concertina divinely. He says they're going to make a provision department of Attermans in your store. Percy Atterman is certainly a wonderful man!"

Barbara left the sometime soloist of the Lusiana Ladies' Orchestra gazing raptly across the road at the shell which had once held her ambitions. Barbara hurried through the store, up the narrow stairs to the office. As she passed Mr Lark's office he called to her.

"Storr!"

She turned back.

"What time is Mr Maber coming?"

"Lark, I can't tell you," she replied.

"I've got a handle to my name," he said loudly, conscious that his appreciative staff were listening.

Barbara looked at him thoughtfully for a long time, and then:

"I won't fire you, because I know that you are married and your wife has enough trouble. But your appointment as chief buyer in the firm of Maber & Maber terminates today. I will let you have it in writing."

Mr Lark was speechless; could remember no retort until she was back in her office.

She threw her coat and hat on a chair, stalked into Mr Maber's private room, sat down, looked through his letters, threw them aside, called Mr Stewart on the telephone, and then rang the bell. Mr Lark, thinking mistakenly that his employer had returned, hurried to lay his complaint before him; for this was a moment when he could afford to speak his mind.

He nearly dropped at the sight of the girl in the chair.

"Come in, Lark, and sit down." She pointed to a chair.

"See here, Miss Storr—" he began.

She raised her hand.

"What time is the conference?" she asked.

"It's waiting now," he said loudly.

"Very good," said Barbara.

She took up a pencil, stuck it in her hair and walked out of the room, and Mr Lark came behind her at a respectful distance, for it occurred to him that conceit, vanity, bumptiousness and those other attributes with which she was credited had turned the head of Miss Barbara Storr.

She opened the door of the board-room and walked in. Julius was in earnest confabulation with Mr Atterman and Minkey, and all seemed rather pleased with themselves. Two men, one of whom she saw was a stranger, and guessed was a lawyer, were comparing drafts near the chairman's end of the table. Mr Maber's grey-haired lawyer gave her a nod and a smile, which faded as she seated herself in the president's padded chair. The crime was also witnessed from the doorway by Mr Lark, who tiptoed in, lest any untoward noise should put out of the head of Mr Julius the unpleasant sentiments which, from all symptoms, he was about to deliver.

"Where is Mr Maber?" he asked sharply.

"He won't be able to come." There was a little book on the table, where the directors signed their names. Barbara dipped her pen into the ink and wrote "Barbara Storr" in large firm characters.

"Then I'll take the chair," said Julius.

He approached that sacred piece of furniture and waited. Barbara did not even look up.

"Come, come, miss," snapped Atterman sharply. "We can't wait all day, and I'm not so sure that we shall require your presence."

"I'm not so sure that I shall require yours, Mr Atterman." She leaned back in the chair, the tips of her fingers touching, in the manner immortalised by the sleuth of Baker Street.

Mr Lark looked from one to the other, turning his head so rapidly that any uninformed observer might have imagined that he was denying his responsibility for the amazing behaviour of one who was practically a subordinate. Maber's lawyer tried to pour oil on the troubled waters.

"Come, come, Miss Storr," he said good-humouredly. "I'm afraid you'll have to vacate the chair. Have you any message from Mr Maber?"

"Yes," said Barbara.

She took the power of attorney from her bag, unfolded it and passed it across to the lawyer.

"That is his message, Mr Steele."

The solicitor fixed his glasses and read from "Know all men by these presents" to "Signed before me, a Commissioner of Oaths." He was too old a lawyer, his experience too wide, to be surprised at anything. He finished reading the document and folded it up.

"Would you like me to keep this?" he said.

"I think I would, Mr Steele," said the girl. She had been wondering what she should do with the paper, and his suggestion was a relief.

"What is it all about?" demanded Julius, red in the face with annoyance.

"Do you wish to take the chair and conduct these negotiations?"

Steele was addressing the girl, and Barbara nodded.

"She conduct the negotiations? What on earth possesses you?" demanded Julius savagely. "This girl is a clerk, a stenographer, a typist — anything you like."

Mr Steele leant back and polished his glasses with a little smile. He did not like Julius.

"That's just what she is—anything she likes," he said. "And I'm afraid, gentlemen, that much as you dislike the situation, as you evidently do, Miss Barbara Storr is in control of this business."

Julius sat down hurriedly on Mr Minkey's knee and was immediately hoisted to his feet again.

"Are you mad?" he asked hollowly. "In charge of this business!... Where do I come in?"

"You come in as a junior partner, Mr Colesberg," said Steele; "and if I remember your contract, you are precluded from interfering with the operations of the senior partner or his nominee. This young lady holds Mr Maber's full power of attorney."

A deadly silence fell upon the meeting. Mr Lark's mouth opened wider and wider. Then it was true! "Young Girl Holds Millionarie in Grip of Iron"! Mr Atterman, an opportunist, was the first to recover.

"Well, now, isn't this a remarkable situation?" he said. "I'm going to tell you right here and now, ladies and gentlemen, that I'm just as ready to negotiate with Miss Storr as I am with Mr Maber. And readier," he added. "We've got in this young lady a keen business intellect, a brain outside the ordinary, though perhaps not as experienced as some of us in the art of management and finance. And personally I'm glad to know that her signature will be at the foot of this historic document."

Julius walked dully to his seat at the far end of the table, and now sat with clasped hands, watching her in a dazed and helpless fashion.

"Where do I come in?" he squeaked again, but Mr Atterman silenced him with a look.

Mr Minkey took his cue from his master.

"This proposition which we're putting forward, Miss Storr," he said briskly, his small eyes blinking at every syllable, "is—"

"Where is Maber?" Julius was goaded into asking the question.

"He's abroad," said Barbara. "In Germany."

"Where? I'm not going to be quiet, Atterman—I want to know. Where is Mr Maber? What part of Germany."

Barbara missed Cologne, but thought of a good cathedral city.

"Worms," she said.

Mr Lark started.

"Dead?" he asked hollowly.

"As far as I know, he's alive. You were saying, Mr Minkey—?"

"This proposition," began Mr Minkey all over again, "isgoingtoappealtoanypersonofaverageintelligence."

He spoke so rapidly that the sentence sounded like a long and foreign word.

"Itmakesforeconomyofwork. Itreducestheoverhead—"

"Wait Minkey; I'll put it to the young lady so clearly that she'll see it before I'm through." Atterman smiled knowingly. "As a matter of fact, young lady, there's nothing to discuss. We've settled the terms, and this is just a formal meeting for fixing signatures."

"Hardly that, is it?" said Steele, the lawyer.

"Of course it isn't!" said Barbara scornfully. "Now listen to me, Mr Atterboy, and get this right: the only sale there's going to be in this house today is one which will be carried out in the proper place—over the counter. The deal is off."

Atterman swallowed something.

"Is that honourable?" he asked.

"It's both honourable and intelligent—" she began, but Julius leapt up in a fury.

"I'm not going to allow you to dictate to me," he said, shaking a fist at her. "What am I? Where do I come in?... Am I going to sit here and allow you to interfere with my business—with our business, I should say? I paid seven thousand pounds for a twenty-fifth share—seven thousand pounds." He thumped the table seven times. "If this deal doesn't go through, I am throwing up the business, and I want my money back. The whole thing is in decay. I haven't had a dividend since I've been in it. If you've got these almighty powers, dissolve my partnership, give me a cheque and let me out!"

To his amazement, the girl turned to the lawyer.

"Fix that, Mr Steele," said. "I'll give you a cheque tonight. I don't suppose he means it—"

"I mean every word of it," Julius was stung into saying. "Give me a formal declaration of dissolution and I'll sign it here and now!"

Barbara nodded to the lawyer, and with surprising rapidity he wrote out six lines, blotted it out carefully, and carried it to the end of the table.

"The cheque-book, Mr Lark."

Mr Lark uttered feeble sounds of protest.

'Cheque-book, Mr Lark!" she said, and he rose and crawled out, returning with a large flat book, which he placed before her.

Presently he would wake up and detect the cause of this terrible dream. He watched her, fascinated, saw her write "William Ebenezer Maber, by his attorney, Barbara Storr," beneath the polite instructions to the bank to pay Mr Julius Colesberg or at his order the sum of seven thousand pounds. The lawyer came to her for the cheque, examined it carefully, took it back to Julius, and he fixed his name to the document with a tremulous hand. Within an hour after signing his power of attorney, Mr Maber had lost a partner.